


The Past

by CrypticGabriel



Series: Five Nights at Flute's [October 2014] [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Hallucinations, Thriller, lost souls - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticGabriel/pseuds/CrypticGabriel
Summary: Dazz gets a horrifying surprise when he's on lookout duty, fifteen years after the Battle of Trost.





	The Past

**Trost, 865**

_It was calm and quiet, like_ many other nights before. Nothing was out of place. Everyone was safe in their homes fast asleep, except for those standing guard by the city gates. The Garrison soldiers were already tired and rested against the walls. A couple people were casually standing beside the fire that was lit to keep them all warm on the chilly autumn night.

The moon was full tonight, and alit mist overcast it. Tonight, a middle-aged, tense looking man was taking charge of the vigil, to watch over the town. There were a few soldiers there alongside him, but they weren’t as high and alert as he was. He was not going to take a break, even if it was casually offered to him. Not by a long shot.

Because Dazz was the one that was in charge of this night watch.

 

He stayed to himself in the Garrison after over fifteen years since graduation. He refused to fight the Titans now after all that danger during the Battle of Trost. He didn’t get a high enough score to get into the Military Police. So now, he was here in the place where he felt it was best for him. He would get in less trouble this way. He would be in less of a panic.

_Panic._

To be brutally honest, he didn’t like being here as it was. Everyone here gave him such a hard time, especially the people he graduated with that joined him in the Garrison. They would not let him forget that he was one of the only people who backed out of the battle that day and yet still had the gall to stay in the military. They made sure that the decision was never forgotten, especially since he avoided the same fate his colleagues had at all costs.

Dazz stared up at the moon and groaned inwardly. He wasn’t sure if the others he knew back in his training days were still alive, the ones that decided to go to the Scouting Legion. They probably weren’t. The Titans were such evil creatures in his opinion, so that could be the most likely possibility. All they did was wreak havoc and bring pain and suffering to everyone they impacted. Thankfully he hadn’t seen them since that day. He didn’t know what he would do if he saw them again.

Ever since he got here he had the bad reputation of being a coward. To all the new recruits that would come to this squadron, everyone made this very clear:

_“He backed out the first chance he got…”_

He did. He did back out that very first chance. He couldn’t bring himself to fight the Titans. Upon first sight, they were so terrifying. He still had nightmares about that day. To be honest, now he really regretted not being there for his… he couldn’t really call them friends at this point.

Everyone was so brave. Everyone except for him. He was a coward, and he knew it. But he couldn’t help but be so scared when he was standing there and staring into the eyes of his greatest adversary. That was when he realized _“Why did I sign up for this? What was I thinking when I said that I wanted to join the military?”_ Well it was obvious that he hadn’t been thinking too clearly.

The first one to die was Thomas. He remembered that very well. An abnormal Titan got to him just when they seemed to have some kind of ounce of courage. Then it all just went downhill for him. And it brought to him instead a sudden wave of panic. He couldn’t do this, and there were moments where he had gotten so scared that he threw up on the ground. And the only one out of all the other soldiers that helped him through that anxiety was Marco Bodt. He knew that young man could have been somebody.

But no. As he watched all of his friends die, when given the chance he just fled like the coward he was. No one even believed in him. No one would have even cared if he died. He did decide at one point during that day that the only way to escape this madness was death. But as he drew his sword and went to lodge it in his stomach, only one person rushed to stop him. And once again, that had to be Marco.

 _“Snap out of it!”_ the boy’s urgent words echoed in his head. _“You’re not the only one that is terrified, look around you! You have to stay calm!”_

_Please…._

No one believed in him that is, except for that young man. But really he couldn’t be any more wrong by deciding that so poorly. Dazz knew that Marco could have been somebody. Not a leader necessary, but someone that can offer everyone around him the support they needed to carry on. Maybe they could’ve used that bravery he had until the bitter end.

But now it was too late to be dwelling on that event that seemed so long ago. That boy was just another forgotten face now, another corpse offered in a pyre that received the horrible punishment of an untimely fate. There was nothing that anyone could’ve done to save him.

There was nothing that could’ve been done to save any of those poor young soldiers that had no idea what was coming to them until it was far too late to turn back. Dazz could have done something to help, _anything_. But he chose to stay on the sidelines because he was selfish enough to think that his fear and anxiety went above everyone else’s when they were all running away from the same thing. Death. And to this day he never let himself forget that, especially on nights like these.

He could hear them. Those shrill cries and the sobs of the forgotten. In the mist, the fogs of his memories from years before. He could hear the laughter, piercing in his ears as it would break off into fading screams. He could hear it all, and it never stopped.

Was this how it felt to be guilty for something you had almost no control of? Did he really deserve to live through something as brutal as this every night? He sure as hell thought so.

The screams were much louder tonight. They were in anguish, begging for help although he couldn’t make out any coherent words. There was nothing he could do, nothing to save them. Nothing to help them find their way home. And that hurt much more than he had anticipated.

And he was the only one that could hear their cries.

Was he cursed? Was he being punished? Probably. But what else could he do to change this? Nothing. All these questions had such easy answers, and none of them ever benefited him.

However, he then realized that tonight was different. Something about the atmosphere that brought a much darker aura to their small group standing right by the city gates. Eyes. He felt eyes on him. They were staring him down and boring into his soul. This was new, and not necessarily a good thing. It sent chills down his spine as his pulse quickened and he was quick to look around completely.

“Is something wrong?” one of the other soldiers asked, noticing the cold sweat beading on Dazz’s neck and planning to offer some kind of help. But there was nothing that they could really do. Dazz didn’t even respond to their question.

His eyes were drawn to a focal point that was far out into space. He gaped and his arms shook as those eyes became the organs to dark mists. Those mists grew limbs, and most of them were grossly imperfect. They separated, had their feet planted on the ground. And most of them that didn’t have salvageable feet were just floating while they all became recognizable figures to the poor man that was witnessing this supernatural transformation.

They were soldiers—the lost graduates. The ones that had been screaming at him. Why were they appearing like this before him now? Why were they now so easy to point out?

Thomas, Mina, Fraz, Hannah… all those familiar faces were being shown and in not the type of imagery that he had hoped he would have. They were worse than ghoulish. They were broken, grotesque, dripping on everything they came into contact with and having not much recollection of doing so.

He was tempted to scream for help, but that crazed look in his wild eyes made everyone in his squadron stand back, trying to pursue something that they could not see. They were there, and only Dazz was still aware. As frustrating and horrifying that was, he couldn’t bring himself to voice his sudden fear.

They weren’t after him, he realized as they were aimlessly traveling. They were soon levitating, giving Dazz blank looks as if they were all aware they were being watched. They didn’t speak to him. They didn’t scream, although some had their mouths agape from broken jaws and torn tendons all down their bodies that were dragging down on the ground like sick chains.

They weren’t after him. They were after the most brilliant moonlight that Dazz had ever seen. Could it be? Were they at last finding peace? It was about time, and he knew that now they would be so much more elated. They could feel. They felt distress and such painful suffering being confined in Trost. Now, they were going home. This was the end of the harsh screams and the fear that was weighted on Dazz’s back for so many years. He was cleared.

The full moon was still high even after those spirits had left and taken their entrails with them. They left nothing behind, not even the messy and dripping blood. It was so quiet, for the first time in so many years. And this was when Dazz finally relaxed. All was clear.

“Dazz?”

He quickly looked over, blinking out of his trance. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?” the same soldier that spoke earlier asked him again. “Did you see something?”

He cleared his throat. For once, there was absolutely nothing to worry about. “No, I saw nothing. I’m just… too tired, I guess.”

All he got from them was a nod, and they went back to their post. Dazz sighed heavily in relief. This was the best feeling that he had in such a long time.

But as soon as he felt that relief, it quickly halted when he heard another sound.

Another cry?

Those haunted cries… No. That wasn’t possible. Dazz just saw all those spirits leave. And yet, as he looked forwards again, he realized that he was wrong. Sure, all those spirts had left and took their voices with them. But one still remain.

One single, lost spirit was staring at him with one eye while half of his face was torn and his right arm was missing and had clots of blood that still seemed to drip in its place. Dark burns on his clothes, what remained of his lip curled to show his broken teeth, his exposed ribs cracked and jutting from torn muscle. Dazz couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

Marco Bodt.

The boy still remained, lost although his peers seemed to have been at long last found. He was the one left behind, the one still forgotten. And although Dazz could hear his cries, his mouth did not move once. When it did, his jaw moved mechanically. He was trying to form words, but not even a breeze could prove that he really wanted to say something to the man that was giving him such a horrified expression.

He was there. He wasn’t going anywhere, and he knew that Dazz could see him. He reached out his pale arm for him, giving begging gestures and mouthing again. Chills. All Dazz felt was intense chills as the boy that once gave him the reassurance that he had no reason to die now looked like he was about to kill him and was not giving him the satisfaction that he was going to.

But there was no violence or aggression. Just a begging offer. _Please._ But please, what? There was nothing that Dazz could do. The boy looked desperate, his glossy dead eye filled with all the emotion that none of the other spirits had. The cries echoed in Dazz’s ears, and he knew that he was trying but there was absolutely no luck in getting a good translation out of him.

So instead of showing him the way, he swatted at him, even though he was still a good few yards away. He wanted the young corpse nowhere near him. He was not going to risk anything or give him the satisfaction of possibly taking his soul. These ludicrous ideas came to Dazz in his panic, and there was nothing that he could do for Marco instead of shoo him away like he was a filthy stray searching for food.

Instead of disappearing like Dazz thought he would, the boy remained, staying still in his place as his head lolled to the side. The soldier was not going to help this lost soul. He had absolutely no reason to. So now the boy was stuck.

Dazz was never able to get the pained expression out of his head. He could still see him, not just on those cold nights under the full moon, but every single day. Wherever he went he could see him, still begging, still hoping that there would be different results. The worst part was that now the lost soul was now all alone in this big city where no one could come to his rescue.

The screams returned to his conscience, but they were much louder, much more filled with extreme despair as all he could do was cry for help and hope someone would hear him.

But the only one that could refused to let him see the light that he had craved for over fifteen years, and many more years after that.


End file.
